Shadow Seer (Rogue Merchant Book #3): LitRPG Series

by Roman Prokofiev

  Weeping Devil, PROJECT HELL Castle

  “WHEN?”

  “Raid call’s at half-past three, New Tokyo time. We’ll attack an hour later, at half-past four,” Tao repeated patiently. “Please inform your static groups, only those members you trust one hundred percent. There won’t be any mass announcements.”

  “No announcements?” Tentacle asked, yawning. “Why, boss?”

  “We’re afraid of a leak. There must be spies in the clan,” the PROJECT leader replied. “It’s going to be just the old guard this time.”

  “Why such a strange time?” Svoy asked. “Low enemy activity when everyone’s asleep?”

  “Yes, but not just that. Our allies insisted on this.”

  The war started by the House of Darkness didn’t come easy to PROJECT. The seven group leaders who met to talk looked tired and sleepy. They were forced to spend up to twenty hours a day online, and raids, attacks, and battles came one after another. Still, for most of them, it was far from the first all-out war. All of them were hardcore veterans and never complained, and the ever-growing kill rating was the best impetus. Tao had kicked most of the dissenters from the clan back during the first week of active combat.

  “I’d like to hear details,” Mirgus finally said. “Who are we fighting? Where’s the attack? What are our forces?”

  “The target is the Golden Fairs,” Tao quietly said after looking over everybody present. “The capital of the Kingdom. Ananizarte wants to cut off the snake’s head. They have four hordes: archers, strike troopers, and two airborne divisions, plus three player raids: us, Legion, and Heretics.”

  For a few seconds, everyone stood in stunned silence. Tentacle walked to the window, opening the stained-glass folds, and fresh morning air burst into the clan hall, raising the corners of the Dorsan map pressed to the table by many brass soldiers.

  “So it’s the Fairs. It will be a hell of a scuffle,” Illith concluded, a fiendish grin on his face.

  “A war with Phoenix? I’ve always wanted to kick those punks’ asses,” Svoy said.

  “Are you even serious?” Mirgus spoke up, his head bent above the map. “Either I don’t get something, or this offensive is a completely reckless gamble!”

  “Well, then tell us your strategic vision!” Tao said, smirking.

  “No problem. All right, first, the Golden Fairs is the largest city of the continent and the capital of the most powerful NPC Kingdom, the forces of which, I remind you, are on alert. Allied troops, like Arveonian riders, were pulled there as well. The time of the attack doesn’t matter, as NPCs don’t care about that. The local garrison has powerful mages and defensive artifacts. By my estimation, four Irchi hordes, only one of them heavily armored, are nowhere enough to capture the city. We’d need many more people to win—maybe even all of the House’s forces!”

  Tao smiled, nodding at him to continue.

  “Second, it’s no secret that Phoenix owns the Fairs. According to our intel, they’re on high alert and preparing for war. The Fairs is the main regroup point of the Reds and all southerners, too. Most of their players are soulbound there, so regrouping won’t take much time. They also have access there to any number of artifacts and gear sets. In theory, even if they lose, they can change equipment and rush back into battle. In short, they have endless reserves.”

  “Next, I’ve been spying on the events there,” Mirgus continued, walking up to the table. He covered the area along the Long Sea with his palm, mercilessly scattering the brass warriors.

  “I brought you up to speed, remember? I repeat—the Phoenix have put stationary stonejammers in each essential outpost. In Fairs, they have some long-range artifact that blocks all portal magic. So what does that mean? That the closest we can open a pentagram is a hundred leagues from the city! A surprise attack is out of the question; they have a two-hour head start to get ready. The third and worst problem is their numbers. They have lots of refugees who lost castles—Silver Guard, Chaos, Hunters, Goethia, Shadows... I expect the entire host to make up at least five thousand people, and that’s on top of their allies—the Watchers, I mean the Northern Alliance, will send at least a thousand, just as the Horde. Basically, they have ten times as many players, Tao! Most of them aren’t newbies, either, even if they’re below our skill level. Considering their superior numbers, they’ll crush us down with cannon fodder!”

  “Seven thousand kills? Sounds good,” Tentacle said with a smile. “Right, boss?”

  Tao didn’t reply. He perched on the corner of the table and looked at his analyst.

  “That’s right, Mirgus. I know the odds, and so does SHE. The plan comes from her. Also, to make it clear, SHE’s going into battle with us.”

  Silence fell again, and Mirgus finally laughed.

  “Now this is an argument!” he said. “Ananizarte is a goddess and our trump card, but... Seven thousand players, Tao. Can you imagine the incoming DPS? She’ll wipe them all once, twice, thrice, but eventually, they’ll find the key. I remind you, their regroup point is just a few steps away. In this battle, I wouldn’t bet on Ananizarte! If I were her—”

  “Listen, how about you tell all of this to her yourself?” Tao suddenly flared up. “What you’d do if you were her and other wet dreams! Let’s cut the crap! Tomorrow, half-past three! Only the old guard, we’ll call the youngsters later. Is this clear?”

  “Ananizarte...” Tentacle came up to Tao and looked him right in the eyes. “Tell me, what is she like?”

  Tao raised his gloved hand and slowly crooked his fingers.

  Chapter 20

  “HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD! Let’s go! Don’t talk! Don’t stop!”

  The second I slowed down, the Maidens’ spears pricked my skin. I hadn’t expected this turn of events and kept throwing confused glances at Svechkin. Intercepting his gaze, I pointedly looked down at the hilt of my sword. Maybe we shouldn’t allow them to treat us like that and use force? The developer shook his head—don’t worry, it’s fine.

  Several corridors full of scurrying Maidens, a long way down, and we were given a hard push into a rectangular doorway. The door shut behind us, leaving Svechkin and me in pitch darkness.

  The shuriken flashed with blue fire, forming a spinning halo above the Gravekeeper’s head. The failing light illuminated a tiny square room without any windows, doors, or furniture. The doorway through which we entered had magically disappeared, blending into a wall. So that’s what an Absolute-class cell was like.

  Svechkin started touching the walls coated with strange dull black metal. I heard several phrases.

  “Demonite...where did she get it...aura...right, triple defense!”

  “Could you explain what’s going on?” I asked him wearily. “I expected a different kind of welcome. Is she always like that when half-awake?”

  “Sit tight, Cat. Relax!” Svechkin replied, carefully pacing the room. “We have a lot of time; you can take a break.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been playing Sphere for almost twenty-four hours non-stop,” I said with a yawn, sitting down in the corner and happily stretching my legs. “It’s one thing after another... I’d love to use a Soul Stone to escape and have a good night’s sleep!”

  “I said, relax. Or sleep here. It’s not like you can go anywhere.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This cell is extremely well-protected. I think it can contain an entity up to the eighth rank. All portals are blocked, a powerful antimagic aura, and three layers of protection: demonite, star metal, and adamantine. Even our Keys won’t work. There is something that even the weapons of the Seven can’t overcome—see that black metal? It’s demonite, a legendary ore from the Netherworld, super rare. You’ve probably never heard about it.”

  “I have. It has no durability,” I said, surprising Svechkin. “Black Weapons. I’ve encountered them.”

  “Really? Ah, yes, you were hunted by the Pandas. It’s a rare item. In short, we’ll have to wait for Lena to come to her senses
and start thinking logically. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. On the other hand, it’s understandable—unscheduled launch of the protocol, abnormal awakening. Two strangers with Keys burst into her inner sanctum, the Silver Stronghold, one of them a player and another a bandaged mummy...”

  “Wait!” I interrupted him. “So you don’t know what each other’s digital copies look like?”

  “We finished creating the Seven just before the accident. Each of us designed our bodies independently, to our own liking. We all knew basic information, but in the name of secrecy, all details—the appearance and nicknames of our alter egos, the location of caches with Keys—were to be kept under wraps until the protocol was activated. Otherwise, Balabanov—or anyone, really—could have easily gathered the Keys themselves, which, incidentally, Andrei is currently doing.”

  “Odd. Then how were you supposed to recognize each other in case of a normal activation?” I asked, surprised.

  “First, after certain...incidents, we barely trusted each other. Second, we expected to convene in real life before launching the protocol and discuss the specific details. Nobody knew that we would end up locked inside the game! By the way, it’s going to be hard for Lena... I wouldn’t want to be the Magister when she realizes what happened in the real world!”

  “A femme fatale?” I grinned.

  “Stop joking. What do you know about NPC ranks in Sphere?”

  “They say there are eight of them, ranging from common mobs to deities.”

  “Ten, actually, but that’s beside the point. The safest rank is the second. As long as your faction and respawn point exist, the NPC is practically immortal. At rank three, you get limited lives, and starting with rank four, the NPC becomes unique. They are much more powerful but have only one life. Almost all of us chose rank two avatars as bodies for our digital copies—except for Romanova. Her avatar is the First Maiden, the key figure in the Seven and the Keeper of the Silver Stronghold. I’m not sure about her rank, but it’s six or higher. Do you get it now? Trust me; she can kick up a real fuss in Sphere.”

  Hmm. Interesting. Rank six was basically a goddess. So Romanova sacrificed immortality for power? Such a choice said a lot about her personality.

  Curious, I sat back in a corner and started looking for information about Balabanov’s team online. Strangely, there wasn’t a lot, but I managed to find a few photos and videos. Digital copies were a funny thing, really. In real life, Dmitry Svechkin was big-bellied and tall with a sly face and a wreath of red hair around large bald spots, nothing like lean and swift-footed Rocky. Romanova, however, looked quite similar to her Sphere incarnation, even if much older and not as attractive. In reality, she was well in her forties at the very least. She had short hair, fancy glasses, and an intelligent face. She clearly felt like “one of the boys” in an otherwise all-male team. However, despite her femininity, even in her photos, I could see her iron will. Maybe she, not Balabanov, had been the real leader of the developers, but it was harder for a woman to become the face of the team.

  Although my Rest bar hadn’t reached the threshold yet, I was terribly sleepy. Honestly, that was to be expected—I had slept less than four hours while switching between my two accounts and solving my own and clan affairs. The cell was far from comfortable, but I caught myself falling asleep right in the midst of browsing. It would have been better to log off and warn Svechkin, but waves of exhaustion rolled over me, putting me down before I could do that.

  * * *

  My sleep was interrupted as suddenly as it had started. I looked at the clock—three hours had passed. It was almost morning, yet I was still in Sphere. Hopefully, Alena wasn’t preparing to cut the cords yet.

  It was Svechkin who woke me up. Someone else was in our cell.

  It was a specter, a translucent glowing projection of the First Maiden—Romanova decided against visiting us in the flesh. She was standing in front of us, silently looking through the slits in her silver mask.

  “Tell me who you are and how you got the Keys,” she suddenly spoke up. “Preferably the truth; it will save time for all of us.”

  “Lena, it’s me, Dmitry Svechkin. Don’t you recognize me? You’ve seen my Key, and here’s the Compass!” He demonstrated the star metal device to her.

  “Dmitry? Sorry, but I find it hard to believe!” the specter replied. “By your logic, the owner of the second Key is Maxim, and this man isn’t him—I would have recognized him in any avatar! It’s a player. How could a player get his hands on a Key? HotCat? Oh my God, what a stupid nickname!”

  “Wait, I’ll try to explain everything...”

  “And if he isn’t Rubtsov, then you must be fake as well. Maybe a subpersonality sent into the Stronghold to get my Key or—”

  “Lena, open the Net; you must have the ability to do that! Look at the date! Read about Sphere! Look at our website—”

  “Let me give you a small test first,” Romanova replied calmly. “If you’re really Dmitry Svechkin, you won’t have a problem. Then we’ll talk.”

  “Fine.”

  “What’s the password to the database on the office server?”

  “The new one or the old one?” Svechkin asked. “The old one is ‘get to work,’ no spaces, every second letter capitalized. I don’t remember the new one.”

  “What a funny coincidence, it was installed after the scandal with Balabanov. What car does your ex-wife drive?”

  “Irina? Red Volvo. Should I tell you the license plate?”

  “All right. Then I’ll ask you a tougher question. Only the real Svechkin could know the answer. What color were the mnemonic crystals in the first version of the procedural generator? Blue or green?”

  “Crystals?” the Gravekeeper repeated, confused. “What crystals? Are you trying to mess with me? There were no crystals at all!”

  “True, there weren’t,” the First Maiden’s specter said, chuckling. “Well then, congratulations. You’ve passed the test. Nice to see you, Dmitry. And now, tell me—who is this man, and why does he have Rubtsov’s Key? Where are the others?”

  “The situation’s bad. I’ll send you the information, take a look. Andrei started his play. We’re most likely dead in the real world. The Seven Brothers weren’t started properly, but he’s opened dynamic access to the Keys and is trying to gather them. That’s how this guy got Max’s sword. Thankfully, he decided to help us and not the Magister—”

  “Stop!” I interrupted him. That wasn’t his choice to make.

  “I haven’t decided anything yet. I got the sword by accident, and I never planned on getting involved in this mess. For my help in breaking into the Crown, I was promised a reward, not custody.”

  “A reward...” the First Maiden let out a nasty smirk. “Who promised it, I wonder?”

  “I did,” Svechkin said, stepping forward. “I couldn’t get here alone to wake you up. Lena, we need to talk. You don’t see the big picture. We’re in deep shit, and we need to get out.”

  Romanova’s specter disappeared, and for a few seconds, we were left in complete darkness. Then light poured into the room, revealing a rectangular exit. It seemed we were invited to leave.

  * * *

  “I guess carrying it wasn’t hard at all,” the First Maiden said after a tense silence. For the previous half-hour, Svechkin had been telling her about the current situation while I sat next to him and absorbed the information. Maybe one day, I would need the particulars of the relationship between the developers. From the Gravekeeper’s story, I concluded one simple thing: they didn’t really trust each other.

  “The coffin. We were buried in empty coffins. You know, I never really believed in the afterlife.” A sad chuckle came from beneath her silver mask. “That’s why it feels so funny watching your own funeral. Nobody took over the inheritance yet, but everything will go to my sister. Have you checked up on your family?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” the Gravekeeper replied, sullen. “And what does it matter, anyway? W
e’re locked here now. Even if our ‘digitalization’ becomes public, it won’t give us any rights or change anything.”

  “Yes, I agree. But what a son of a bitch!” Romanova sprang up and started anxiously pacing about her chambers. “How dare he do that!”

  In a fit of rage, she pulled off her winged mask, and it tinkled as it fell on the floor. The air trembled around the delicate figure of the First Maiden as a powerful aura of unrestrained menace reverberated throughout the air. I had felt something like that in Temples and when facing Ananizarte and Tormis. Romanova’s avatar was clearly anything but simple.

  “Rouse the Stronghold, jump to Dorsa, and take down his lair for good!” she yelled. “How about that, huh?”

  “What will it solve?” Svechkin asked sadly. “Other than give us satisfaction, it will only disadvantage us, attracting the attention of the new administration and revealing our hand. We need to gather all of the Keys. Where’s yours, by the way?”